i slept last night. long and hard.

and when i finally awoke this morning it was to the sound of pounding rain. pouring rain. pitter-patter-tap-tap-tapping rain.

glorious, glorious rain.

so i literally rolled out of bed taking my white duvet with me, cracked the window, and moved the reading chair just in front.

and there i sat. with my book. listening and watching and feeling the cool, damp breeze.

and i gave thanks that i asked for both rain boots and an umbrella for christmas. because there's nothing quite like trying navigate the eccentricities of a new york rainstorm if you're ill prepared.

and then i opened my book and disappeared. into another world. into another life.

i haven't read a book since late last may. i wasn't able to this summer. picked up many, but just couldn't do it. and so it continued through until now, december. a six month reading block. and knowing this period must come to a close i picked up a book that i'd read before. and decided to begin there.

and suddenly, with book in hand, the train ride seems bearable. and waking up on sunday mornings to a world of white seems poignant: a blank canvas to fill with a story between my hands.

don't ever let me go this long again without falling into a book. i'm a far better person when i'm living in two worlds--this one and the one gifted to me by an author with imagination and empathy.